The Gravity Series Part I: It's What You Can Bare
by Pennytextrix
Summary: Set post 'Strike Three.' Sharon heard the Chief's words more clearly than she would ever admit. They had cut her to her core. The Chief had meant them to. Brenda tries to apologise. Twice. In doing so, she finds out just how much she has underestimateed Sharon. The affair is further complicated by a case that forces them together even as it tears Sharon's life apart.
1. Chapter 1: Two Ships

_ Corpus omne perseverare in statu suo quiescendi vel movendi uniformiter in directum, nisi quatenus a viribus impressis cogitur statum illum mutare._

Every body persists in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight forward, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by force impressed

- Newton's First Law of Motion. _Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica_ (The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy) [1687]

Chapter 1: Two Ships

Sharon watched from the safety of the tree line as people slowly left the funeral in small groups. Families. Friends. Officers. Uniforms. Civilians. They all walked away. Some clung to each other for support. Some reached out to others. Some with tear stained faces, some with dry eyes and respectfully straight backs. Some rushed away. Some lingered, awkwardly. Some fidgeted with their hands, trying to work out the appropriate amount of time they should stand staring into the two newly occupied rectangular voids of earth before they could leave. Sharon wondered where they were all going. Some to the reception, obviously. Some to find a bar to toast the dead and drink the day into oblivion. Home? Back to the station? These were all good options. Sharon didn't move. Her gaze lingered on the form of one officer in the distance. A woman. Caucasian. Blonde. Slight build. She seemed frozen to the spot and made no move to leave with the rest of the crowd. Sharon wondered who she had been to these men. A fellow officer? A partner? A friend? A lover even? The figure turned slightly. The movement immediately revealing her profile. She'd know that face anywhere. Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson.

_Well, that's just perfect isn't it?_

Sharon breathed deeply, the dark loam smell of wet earth kept her rooted to the spot. Her fingers picked at the silver braid of her dress hat as she thought about how many other officers lay rotting in the deep earth beneath her feet. How many of them were there because of her: because they had feared the consequences of discharging their weapons and they had hesitated?

She had heard the Chief's words more clearly than she would ever admit. They had cut her to her core. The Chief had meant them to.

_"When officers are shot and killed in the line of duty, they're investigated by me. When they shoot back they're investigated by you. That means they'll think twice before defendin' themselves. That hesitation means that more good cops will die."_

Oh, she was good at what she did. Sharon grimaced. She'd taken one look at her standing there in her uniform. She had seen the sorrow in her eyes, the feint tremble of her mouth and then the doubt - the lack of conviction in her words- and she had known just where to twist the knife.

_"I have to ask, have you ever considered what your principles might cost?"_

_Every day, _Sharon thought, _Every single day._ She thought about every good officer whose life she'd made hell for seventy-two hours. Every corrupt officer she'd had to clear because they'd been too careful. Every victim who went without justice because of procedural irregularities, illegal searches, breaks in the chain of evidence. And there was one in particular, one case that haunted her. The one that got away. The one she would never, could never let go. Not until he was behind bars or in the cold ground beneath her feet.

She could have said any one of those things to Brenda. She'd wanted to say something, anything that would make her understand: _I get it. I am one of you. When one of our own dies in the line of duty, I feel it every bit as much as you._ It might have helped to start to bridge the distance between them. But she hadn't been brave or stupid enough to say any of it. It had been too personal, too raw and something too like emotion. So she'd done what she always did. She shut down and quoted statistics.

_" Seventy million dollars. That was the settlement in the Rampart case. One hundred. That's how many convictions were overturned due to renegade policing and lack of oversight in one division alone, not to mention the loss of trust the LAPD needs to remain effective…"_

_"There has to be a better way."_ The look she'd seen in Brenda's eyes as she'd said it. The sound of her voice had been almost pleading. She was barely holding back tears. Looking back at it now, Sharon held the vague suspicion that she was being manipulated. But in that instant it had seemed so real, so genuine, as if Brenda had been reaching out, offering a cessation of hostilities, offering a kind of apology even if it was tinged with Brenda's own brand of passive aggression.

She could have met her half way. She could of told her that she had, quite frequently, had the same thought. But Sharon had felt like the ground was shifting beneath her in that empty corridor. The game was subtly changing and Sharon had no idea of the new rules. Things could have changed between her and Brenda Leigh Johnson in that moment. In another life they might have been friends or even…

_Don't even go there, Sharon._

"Well, until then…you've got me."

_And while we're at it, whatever possessed you to say something like that? With the smile and the look and the sad voice? You were practically flirting with the woman. God, I hate her. No...That's not quite true, but I don't… _Sharon grimaced…_ like her._ _With her stupid bag and her stupid hair, the hot as hell Scarlet O'Hara act and those stupid, perfectly kissable lips. Yes I do hate her. She's dangerous. I mean, oh my God! She threatened to have that tattoo artist killed right in front of me! And she's stubborn, rude, disrespectful, manipulative. She drives me nuts. Lives to make my life hell. She makes me angry enough to do things, say things I don't mean... _

Sharon stood at the edge of the graveyard arguing with herself and getting madder by the second.

_And the worst part is, you like it._

Brenda had stayed at the grave side long after everyone else had left. Her feet felt heavy, like she was too close to the ground, like it was going to swallow her if she didn't tread more carefully. She couldn't quite work out why this was affecting her so much. This was hardly her first experience of officers dying in the line of duty. Maybe it was the Neo-Nazi involvement, or that stupid, stupid dead boy no one seemed to care about. Maybe it was the way Duran's wife had clutched at her pregnant belly and avoided eye contact as Brenda offered her condolences. Then there was Raydor._ She did care._ Brenda knew that. She'd seen it at the crime scene, at the notification and especially in the corridor. And she'd used it. Picked at her. Messed with her just because she could. Just to make herself feel vindicated.

_Well, it's not like she hasn't been pickin' and pushin' at me all week long._ Brenda shrugged as she dragged herself back to the car. _ Battin' her eyes at Pope to get joint custody of the crime scene, screwin' up my notification, callin' me out on the tattoo designs, startin' use of force investigations and readin' people their rights left right and centre._ Brenda still couldn't work out if that had been a deliberate stroke of genius or a happy accident. _Either way I can't be doing with that woman up in my face, lookin' her looks and reading her rule book at me in that low, perfectly controlled, sinfully enunciated voice. _

_Sinfully enunciated? Oh for heaven's sake! Just where did that come from Brenda?_ She knew exactly where and didn't care to think about it. She was paid to notice things. People's behavior. Their body language. The way they spoke. What they were saying and what was hiding underneath. So it hadn't escaped Brenda's attention that the Captain sometimes looked at her in a less than professional manner. Brenda didn't mind one bit. It didn't hurt her ego to know that she was desired by a beautiful woman. In practical terms, it made things easier to control. Made it easier to get her own way. She could play Raydor just like she played Pope. Oh she couldn't bear the woman. _But then,_ Brenda had to admit she'd almost looked forward to seeing her, just because it gave her the opportunity to argue with her. She'd enjoyed being challenged at every turn, if only because it meant that she'd be on the receiving end of one of those nasty, sexy little smirks.

But the health of her ego and a consideration of certain practicalities didn't explain why her heart had skipped a beat when she'd caught the low sweep of the Captain's eyes across her body while they sat together in the surveillance van. Or why she'd then dipped her head and smiled at the Captain before returning the favor. Neither did it explain the ridiculous roll of her stomach or the delicious heavy weight of arousal that had settled there as the Captain had looked her straight in the eye and said _"Well, until then…you've got me."_

Brenda smiled at the recent memory. As it turned out, the Captain wasn't so easily manipulated after all. She gave as good as she got. _Oh, the woman was good. She played me perfectly._ Brenda had confronted Raydor before the funeral, fully intending to tear her a new one and they'd ended up at some kind of weird flirty truce.

_And the best part is, you like it._

As Brenda unlocked her car and opened the door she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She was being watched. It was only then that she noticed the dark red crown vic parked two rows down and three spaces over from her own car. _Ooh that woman!_ Brenda slammed the door and turned back, intent on hunting her down and giving her a piece of her mind.

_Where is she? FID's investigation is over. So what the hell is she still doing here, poking around the funeral? She didn't come here to pay her respects at all! She had to still be investigatin'…but what? _

Brenda spied her by the tree line and started to march her way over there with fury in her every step.

Sharon spotted her advance immediately. She'd been watching her leave and waiting until she did, so she could do the same without bumping into her. Brenda was moving quickly towards her. As Brenda got close enough for Sharon to see her face, she tried not to flinch. Brenda was angry. Sharon noted her furrowed brow and the way she was chewing furiously on her bottom lip. _Oh this is gonna be good._ Sharon deliberately fell into an at ease stance, placed her hands on her hips and smirked, arching an eyebrow in a way that was guaranteed to drive Brenda crazy.

Brenda didn't stop walking until she was two paces too far into what Sharon considered her personal space. To her credit, Sharon stood her ground.

"Chief."

Sharon greeted her slowly and deliberately as she made a clearly hostile kind of eye contact that dared Brenda to break it. Brenda mirrored her stance.

"Don't you 'Chief' me!..." Sharon quirked her eyebrow at that, which inadvertently caused Brenda to drop her shoulders, and soften her voice slightly.

"Cap'n. What're you still doin' here?"

" I'm sorry, I was under the impression that this is a public place." Sharon replied. Her voice remained deliberately calm and devoid of emotion.

"Well..yes, but that doesn't explain what you're doin' here._ I _was under the impression that FID had finished with their investigation."

Sharon's eyes flashed anger, her shoulders tensed but her voice remained deadly matter of fact.

"It has."

"Then why are you here, skulking around in the bushes and ..."

"Trees."

Sharon smirked at Brenda's mistake and folded her arms across her chest. Revelling in her small victory.

"What?" Brenda's voice was low, her hands fairly trembling with pent up anger at the fact that Sharon had dared to interrupt her righteous rant. Sharon thought it was adorable. She cocked her head and moved her hand over her head in an arching motion, pointing vaguely in the direction of the trees that sheltered them.

"They're trees, not bushes." She grinned.

"Ooh!..Whatever! That's not the point. The funeral finished..." Brenda checked her watch "...forty minutes ago. Why are you here?" Brenda stomped her foot in a way that reminded Sharon of her daughter's toddler aged temper tantrums. She was now twenty seven and the temper tantrums had largely abated. It seemed as if the Chief had never grown out of them. _You're too used to getting what you want. No one's ever said no to you have they?_

Sharon drew in a long breath. She was barely controlling her own temper. She knew that she was about to say something stupid again but she couldn't stop herself.

"The same as you, I would imagine." Sharon took a moment to enjoy Brenda's confusion before she took pity on her. "From here, I could see you standing at the graveside. You were the last to leave." Sharon sighed. "Chief...no...Brenda" The name felt awkward on her lips. "Do you...for a second..._Imagine _that you're the only one who's having a hard time with this?"

Brenda opened her mouth to defend herself and then shut it again. She could name about a dozen other people who she had thought about today, people she knew to have been upset by this case but Sharon hadn't been one of them. No, she wasn't sure that it had never occurred to her that Sharon was self aware enough to struggle emotionally with anything.

"I just wanted...needed some time on my own. I had some things to think through. I watched you over there. I _know_ you understand that...need." Sharon's voice sounded shaky, she shut her eyes briefly before opening them again and Brenda thought that she may have been blinking away tears. Sharon pulled herself together, squared her shoulders, nodded a smiling acknowledgement in that dismissive way she had and then she put on her hat, held her head high and was all Captain Raydor again. "And now I'm done. And I'm leaving. So if you'll excuse me...Cheif."

She'd brushed past Brenda and was half way up the path before Brenda could respond.

_Just how wrong can you be about a person?_ Brenda felt awful. _She's right. It never occurred to me. I'm a terrible person._ Brenda screwed up her face at the realisation that she was going to have to apologise and she shouldn't wait. She whipped around and ran after the Captain shouting her name.

"Captain!" nothing.

"Captain!" nothing. She just kept on walking. She didn't even turn around.

"Sharon! Please! Stop!" That got her attention. Brenda smirked. Sharon stopped. Turned and looked at her for a few seconds. Brenda felt those green eyes burning into her, before Sharon turned and kept on walking. She wasn't about to make this easy for Brenda.

Sharon had reached the car park and disappeared from Brenda's line of sight. Brenda ran faster, still hoping to catch her before she drove away. When Brenda reached the car park, she was flushed, sweaty and breathing so hard that she could barely get a word out. She braced her arms against her knees and dipped her head, trying to get her breath back.

" You need to run more."

Brenda looked in the direction of that infuriatingly familiar and undeniably sexy voice to find a smirking Sharon leaning gracefully against the side of her car. "So I'm waiting. What did you want to say? "

" I WAS TRY-IN' TO...TO APOLOGISE!" Brenda shouted. " I thought you would drive away before I got here...but...You! You! ..you're still here!" Brenda wiped a hand across her face and started to stalk her way towards Sharon. "Why' d you make me run after you?" Brenda pouted.

Sharon pushed herself away from the car, feeling slightly uncomfortable under Brenda's intense gaze, but refusing to back down. "Because I wanted to make sure you meant it."

It took Sharon a second too long to realise that Brenda had reached a sensible talking distance and had carried on walking. She found herself pinned against her car before she knew what was happening. She was hyper aware of the way Brenda's thigh was pressed between her legs. The way her hand tightened around her wrist. The heat radiating from her body. The shallowness of her breathing. The way Brenda was so close their noses were almost touching.

"Well I did. I meant it. I mean it."

Sharon saw the tears glistening in Brenda's chocolate brown eyes and rolled her eyes in disbelief. For the life of her she couldn't work out why _she_ was crying. Sharon twisted her wrist out of Brenda's grasp and attempted to push herself away from the car and escape the cage of Brenda's body. Brenda anticipated the move and pushed her leg against Sharon's knee, causing her to lose her balance and forcing her to slump back against the car.

"I really am sorry."

It dawned on her then. Sharon knew what the tears were about. _Crocodile tears. You're not sorry at all. Not about me. You're sorry for yourself because your little scene in woods didn't go quite as you planned. And you're angry because I didn't stand there and let you get away with it._

Sharon tried a different tact. She let her body relax and whispered low against Brenda's ear.

"Let go of me, Cheif"

It didn't work. "Stop usin' my rank." Brenda replied and used her thigh to push Sharon back, so that she rested more securely against her car.

"But you're so fond of it." Sharon grinned. If she could just make her mad enough to lose her concentration, she could get free. Without thinking she pushed her hips against Brenda, She'd intended on using the leverage to twist out of Brenda's grasp, but she found herself whimpering involuntarily at the contact.

The look of horrified arousal on Sharon's face was only matched by the one of shocked amusement on Brenda's. Brenda barely registered the inappropriateness of the situation. Two senior uniformed officers, arguing in a graveyard car park so vehemently that it had turned physical and then maybe now to something else...

All she could really think about was the way her Captain's hair was pulled back in a bun, and how it was trapped underneath a hat that did no justice to the beautiful hair that Brenda knew lay beneath. The bun leant a severity to the Captain's features that was misleading. While Brenda had always been hot for teacher and found it alluring, she longed to see that softer look that had graced and infuriated her crime scene a few days earlier.

Brenda took in the sight of the buttoned up Captain breathing heavily beneath her – The way her breasts strained against the heavy material of her dress shirt. The perfect geometry of the way her waist tapered to meet the line of her gun belt – and she knew she had to do something about it.

She continued to hold Sharon's wrist tightly in her left hand as she reached for Sharon's hat and placed it on the roof of her car. Sharon's breath caught in her throat. Green eyes watched her curiously as Brenda slid her free hand over the back of Sharon's neck. Brenda was surprised when Sharon didn't stop her from pulling out the pin that held her bun in place.

Brenda would think about it for days afterwards and even then she wouldn't know what had possessed her to do such a thing.

She was married to a wonderful man she didn't deserve. She didn't even like Sharon. But that hadn't stopped her from grinding her thigh into Sharon's centre. It hadn't stopped her sinking her hands into Sharon's thick, silky hair. And it hadn't stopped her from crushing her lips over Sharon's waiting mouth.

Sharon grabbed at Brenda's collar with one hand and twisted the fingers of the other in her shirt.

Sharon would never be sure if she'd been trying to push her away or pull her closer. In that moment she'd felt the sweep of Brenda's tongue over her lips, and she hadn't cared about the rights and wrongs of it. She'd felt the hesitation of the kiss as Brenda's tongue begged for entry.

In retrospect Sharon thought she should have bitten it off. But she hadn't.

She'd moaned into her mouth. She'd kissed her back. She'd deepened the kiss and placed her hands on either side of Brenda's head. Her fingers had caressed her cheek. She'd had her hands pulling at Brenda's hair as she bit into her lower lip and she'd caressed that same spot with her tongue just before she'd broken the kiss. She'd been a willing participant. There was no pretending she hadn't wanted it. But Sharon had been furious at Brenda's cruelty. She'd made a horrible mistake. She'd been mortified and Brenda had taken full advantage of the knowledge of her arousal and her vulnerability in that moment.

Sharon looked down at her hand still fisted in Brenda's shirt and released her hold on it. "Good. I'm glad you're ..._sorry._" She said smoothing out the wrinkles. Brenda recognised that tone and knew she was in trouble. She was no longer holding Sharon against the car and it was easy for Sharon to flip their positions.

"And now you've had your fun..." Sharon shoved her roughly against the car "Get out of my face." Sharon stormed over to the driver's side of the car, got in and drove away. This time she wouldn't look back.

Brenda stood dumb, her trembling fingers touching her lips. She barely managed to stumble away from the car at the sound of the engine.

Sharon was on the highway before she realised that she'd lost her hat.


	2. Chapter 2: Passing I

Chapter 2: Passing I

Sharon opened her front door to the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the house. In her own absence, the smell meant only one thing. _Izzy. _Her daughter was home. Her anger at the day's bizarre events immediately dissipated only to be replaced with worry. There was no good reason for her daughter to be in her house at 4.30 on a weekday afternoon. Sharon allowed herself to briefly rest her head against the cool wall of her apartment and groaned in frustration.

_Oh come on! Give me a break._

Sharon unlaced her heavy boots and awkwardly took them off, losing her balance several times and falling back against the door in the process. The noise of the door rattling in its frame, alerted Izzy to her presence.

"Mom?"

Izzy called hesitantly and half-heartedly ran from the kitchen to meet her mother. Sharon picked up her hard won boots and welcomed her daughter into a hug with her free arm and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. The young woman seemed to be clinging to her mother. It only served to worry Sharon further. Izzy wasn't a hugger. Certainly not with her. She was her father's daughter. Something was wrong. She tightened her arm around her, her fingers brushing through the ends of Izzy's long dark hair in a comforting gesture. Eventually Sharon broke the embrace, and took her daughter's hand.

"Izzy, what are you doing here?"

She watched her daughter's face twist in disgust at the endearment, Sharon knew she now hated the contraction of her name. But she couldn't help it. Something of her daughter would always remain the little girl with braided pig tails and perpetually scabbed knees. Sharon held up her hand to stop the protest she knew was coming "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I forgot you're the big hot shot serious Doctor now, you need a serious name." Sharon didn't take offense. There was laughter in her eyes.

"I'll try. I promise. Isobel. Why are you here?"

Izzy shrugged, her eyes flitting around the open plan living room and study before settling on staring at her own feet. Anything was preferable to actually looking at her mother right now. She could always see right through her. Izzy settled on raising her head defiantly and feigning insult.

"Do I need a reason to come visit?"

Sharon sighed and ran her hand through her hair. Direct confrontation was never the way to go with Izzy. She knew this. But everything was too close to the surface right now. After the week she'd had, she was too emotionally frayed to play cleaver games.

"No. Never. You know that, but it's not a bad idea to call first and it's unlike you to drive for two hours just to see mommy, on a whim."

Izzy took in her mother's dishevelled state. She wasn't used to seeing imperfection in her mother's appearance, and definitely not while in uniform. She was usually polished, pressed and buttoned down to within an inch of her life, her hair in that god awful bun, with not a single hair out of place. Izzy's clear blue eyes noted the incongruity of the uniform against her loose and mussed hair, the slightly swollen lips devoid of colour or gloss, the redness of her eyes and the painted pink toes peaking out under the perfectly pressed hem of the dress pants. Her eyes narrowed. If she didn't know better she'd swear her mother had been crying or maybe...no, her mother didn't do either of those things. Certainly not in uniform and definitely not in public.

"What happened to your hair?"

"What?" Sharon dropped the boots, both hands going to her head. It took her brain a second to catch up and understand what Izzy had meant "Oh! I um...the pin fell out." She gestured dismissively. It wasn't important. _Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Sharon_.

"Oh. Ok." Izzy shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and nodded. She noted the boots forgotten on the floor. The gun belt still secured around her mother's waist, but where was the hat? Izzy looked to the sideboard. Nothing. _Weird._ Izzy thought.

"Did you lose your hat too?" It just came out. She hadn't actually meant to say anything. Sharon death glared her daughter. "Don't change the subject." Sharon snapped, picking up her boots and walking towards her bedroom. She stopped and turned back to face her daughter. Izzy thought she looked like she'd forgotten something. No, it was more like...She looked ...lost. _Your mother isn't supposed to look lost._ She sighed.

"I'm sorry, you're obviously... This was a terrible idea, I shouldn't have come. I'm gonna...leave." Izzy gestured towards the door. Sharon shook her head.

"No. You're not. I see you found the coffee. Pour me a cup. I'm going to get changed, and then we are going to talk."

Sharon made her way to her bedroom, pulling out her shirt tails as she went. She was desperate to get out of the uniform. Today she'd felt suffocated by it in a way that she hadn't felt in twenty years. In the blissful solitude of her bedroom she threw the ugly standard issue boots unceremoniously to the floor, unhooked her badge and stripped out of the shirt. She carefully removed her gun belt, setting it down on the bedside table, before flopping down on the bed. "Ugh." She groaned, her hands moving to cover her face as she tried to summon up enough energy to get up again. _Get up. Get up Sharon. You have to get up and see to your emotional wreck of a daughter._

She settled for trying to wriggle out of her dress pants while still lying down. Her hands came to rest on the round of her abdomen as she kicked off her pants. Her fingers traced the raised edges of the scar tissue that she knew so well. It was an old wound. But it had changed her life. Most of the time she thought for the better, but some days she wondered. The choice had been hers alone and she didn't do regrets. The scar was four inches long. A centimetre deeper, a fraction to the left and she wouldn't even be here to worry about her children at all.

She sighed and rolled off the bed. She grabbed a pair of black running shorts from her dresser and reached for her favourite black tank top. It was faded. The lycra had started to perish and the cotton was almost worn through in places. It had long ago been relegated to the exercise outfits. But the familiar feel of worn cloth was comforting and Sharon couldn't bear to take the final step and throw it out. She needed that comfort right now. She pulled on her clothes and glared at herself in the vanity mirror hanging over her dressing table.

_I look like shit._

She thought about what Izzy must have seen when she walked through the front door: The mussed hair where Brenda had fisted her hands as she had crushed her mouth against Sharon's, lips swollen from the angry, tragically desperate way in which Sharon had had kissed her back, the red eyes and tear stained cheeks from where she had cried all the way home. _Pull yourself together_. It was that simple and it was that complicated. Sharon sniffed and swallowed back more didn't even know what she'd been crying for.

She needed to hurry up. She'd been in here a while now and didn't want Izzy to come looking for her. Sharon brushed out her hair and pulled it into a loose top knot, before attempting to scrub away the tear tracks and residual eyeliner with a make-up wipe. She sighed at her failure. If anything she'd made her eyes puffier. Sharon rooted around in her bag for her glasses. She could hide the worst of it behind them and if Izzy said anything, then she'd blame it on the pollen count.

Sharon looked at the pieces of uniform strewn across the bedroom floor, trying to decide if anything was salvageable. Sharon winced at the thought of her dry cleaning bill. It seemed silly really; she'd only worn it for a few hours. Half unwanted memories of just how she'd spent some of her time in uniform that afternoon, flooded her mind. The way Brenda's hungry brown eyes had lingered over her uniformed torso. The way Sharon's nipples had tightened to painfully hard points under that shirt. The way she had rocked against Brenda's thigh while wearing those pants.

"Jesus!" Sharon hissed and shook her head, as if she could physically dislodge the memory.

_I'm so...mortified about that. The way Brenda looked at me! Just like she looks at her suspects in interview, like she'd discovered my dirty little secret and knew just how she was going to win._

It made Sharon feel dirty. The uniform had to go._ Yes. Dry cleaning. Definitely in the dry cleaning._ Sharon grabbed a bag and shoved the uniform inside. She couldn't deal with it now. She set the bag on a chair and backed away from it in fear, not of the uniform itself, but the memories in provoked.

She un-holstered her gun from its belt and left the bedroom. Sharon moved to her desk and took out a lock box. She expertly removed the clip and secured both gun and ammo in the box before locking it away in the top draw.

"Do you have to keep that here?" She turned to find Izzy sulking against the wall.

"What? Are you channelling your father now?" Sharon couldn't count the number of times she'd argued with Eddie about her service weapon being in the house. Every time the argument had started with those exact same words. Sharon leant against her desk and folded her arms across her chest.

"If you saw what I see in the ER nearly every day, you wouldn't keep it here."

"I _do _see it every day and believe me, I don't like it in _my house_, anymore than you do."

"Then why is it here? And why are you at the firing range at some point most weekends?"

"Because, as you well know, regulations state that it has to go where I go. _And, _because it takes practice to be confident that you'll make a clean shot every time."

That wasn't exactly true. Well it was, but it wasn't all of it. If she was honest with herself she enjoyed the challenge. Liked the satisfaction she felt when she hit the target every time and yes, even though it made her slightly uncomfortable to think about its implications, she loved the visceral thrill of power she felt at the feel of the grip and the heavy weight of the gun in her hands as she took aim. But she wasn't about to admit any of that to Izzy.

"Have to do a lot of that in FID, do you? You aren't in vice anymore, Mom."

"Of that, I am well aware." Sharon pushed herself away from the desk and went in search of her coffee. Izzy followed her into the kitchen. Sharon wrapped her hands around the rapidly cooling cup and took a sip. It was almost too cold to drink and Izzy never made coffee strong enough for her taste, but she sipped at it anyway, largely to fill the silence. She tried staring her down but Izzy wasn't budging, so Sharon broke first.

"So, are we going to talk about why you drove down here, or would you like to snipe at each other some more?"

"He's drinking again." Sharon didn't need to ask who. Izzy's voice was breaking. Sharon saw the tears in her eyes and the pain on her face. She knew the look well. She'd worn it for years herself. Sharon wrapped her daughter in her arms feeling conflicted. She wanted to comfort Izzy, but she wasn't going to get involved. For her own sanity, she'd given up on trying to save her husband a long time ago.

"Oh, Iz. I'm sorry this is hurting you, but this stopped being my problem a long time ago...I..can't. I just can't. You know why."

"I know...Dad isn't your problem. But Luke still is, or have you given up on him too?" Izzy hiccupped, her tears falling in her mother's hair. Sharon pushed away from her daughter as if she'd been burnt by her touch.

"That's not fair, Iz." Sharon suddenly found the view through her kitchen window very interesting. She couldn't look at her daughter right now.

"Is he...I assume your brother isn't dealing with it well?"

Izzy shook her head. " I...I think he's missing, Mom."

Sharon turned slowly to face her daughter and tried to assess her in the same way she would a reporting witness in a missing person's case.

"Missing how? Are we talking college missing, or renouncing all worldly goods, including his phone, in order to save the world by living in a tree and getting stoned, missing?"

In his junior year at Berkley, Luke had barricaded himself in his dorm room and refused to answer a phone call for two weeks, after what Sharon had thought had been a minor argument about money. In the end, she'd had to drive up there and convince a porter to break in the door. The things that had gone through her head, the scenarios' she'd dreamed up on that drive: She'd had him murdered in a mugging gone wrong, dead in an alley way, ODed, hanged in his bedroom. It had been the longest six hours of her life.

"Don't do that. This is serious Mom. Had you actually been at the barbeque last weekend, you'd be worried too." Izzy was so angry, she practically spat it at her.

It always came down to that in the end. Even now they were grown. They never remembered every graduation, every piano recital, every game that she had turned up to. Nor how she'd been there every single Christmas morning – how she'd sat with them opening presents under the tree – while their father was...God knew where. No, what they remembered was every family dinner she'd been late to, every birthday party she'd missed.

"Ok. Ok. ...I'm sorry I missed Luke's birthday. I had a case...this terrible...awful case. You know I would have been there if I could. So does Luke. I spoke to him on Tuesday. He seemed fine. That means..." Sharon grabbed a pad and pen from the kitchen counter. "He's an adult. If he's truly missing, it hasn't been long enough to report it, and...considering his track record, missing persons aren't going to spend much time looking for him anyway. So, this is what we're going to do. You are going to calm down. Then, you are going to tell me exactly what happened on Saturday, when you last spoke to him, why you're so worried and then we'll work out what we're going to do. Ok?"

Izzy was staring at her like she'd grown another head. Sharon tried again "Ok?" Izzy threw her hands up in the air. "Mom! You're not listening to me!" She gestured at the pad in front of her mother and the pen in her hand. "You can't treat this like it's just some fucking case you're working. This isn't some random missing person! HE IS YOUR SON! YOU WEREN'T THERE! I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU HE'S...HE'S NOT RIGHT!"

Sharon deliberately dropped her pen and pushed the pad away from her. Her voice grew cold and pointed. "No. You listen to _me._ I AM listening to you, and I am worried to _death._ So I have to do this. I have to get the facts before I can decide what we can do to find your brother. So, start. At the beginning. Please."

Izzy gave in and collapsed onto a stool at the breakfast bar, her head in her hands. After a few seconds, she whipped her head back and stared defiantly at the mother.

"Fine. Dad turned up drunk. After you called and said that you couldn't make it, he went off on one, calling you every name under the sun and inventing some new ones." A smile ghosted across Izzy's mouth. "He's creative with language. I'll give him that."

Sharon shrugged and rolled her eyes. That wasn't particularly out of character for Eddie, she'd probably heard most of them before.

"And Luke, he just...flipped out. Before I knew what was happening he was running at Dad, he knocked him right out of his chair and was sitting on his chest holding a knife to his throat."

"What?" Sharon was shocked, Luke was many things but she'd never know him to be violent. And whatever else Eddie was, he loved, even adored his children to the point of blindness and the feeling was mutual on Luke's part. Izzy was right. It didn't make sense.

"Where did the knife come from? Did he have it with him? or..."

"No. It was my bread knife. I'd been cutting up Bread, making salad. I left it on the table, it never, occurred to me to... I've never seen him like that Mom, he was...wild. Like he was outside himself, I'm not sure he realised what he was doing. I don't think he was actually going to use the knife ...he just kind of... sat there on Dad's chest, the knife against his throat and he was babbling, completely incoherent ...stuff..."

"Like what? do you remember what he said?" Sharon couldn't think of anything she could say or do to make this better. She could only ask questions and try to get to the bottom of it.

Izzy shook her head "Not all of it. No. Something about how he was going to stop it. Finish things like they should be finished...that he had it all worked out and he was going to show dad what a man was...I have no idea what he was talking about. Dad doesn't know either." Izzy said anticipating her mother's next question. "Then he just, sort of ...seemed to come back to his senses. Dropped the knife like he was horrified, like he couldn't remember picking it up. He looked at me, it was like this horrible, desperate, pleading look, then he just ran. Hopped the garden fence, and he was gone. That was the last time I saw him."

Sharon rubbed at her eyes and nodded. "Is your father all right?" She hated herself for still caring. Izzy nodded. "Yes. He's fine. It was frightening, Mom. There were children there. Kate was there with her kids."

"I'm so sorry, Iz. Have you tried calling him?"

"Yes. About a hundred times. I've been getting nothing. Not even his voicemail."

"Have you been to his apartment?"

"Yes he wasn't there. I let myself in. It absolutely stank of weed. Most of his stuff was still there, but I couldn't find his rucksack. Some of his clothes might have been gone. I'm not sure."

Sharon smiled and reached for her daughter's hand, trying to offer some comfort.

"We'll make a detective of you yet." Sharon thought for a moment. "Has he been smoking a lot? I mean, more than usual?"

"You're thinking, some kind of drug induced psychosis?"

Sharon bit her lip. It wasn't something she really wanted to contemplate. "You're the doctor, you tell me."

Izzy sighed. "It did occur to me...but it doesn't quite fit. I'm no expert, but that's usually associated with the adolescent use of marijuana. He's too old."

Sharon nodded. She was trying to keep everything together. She was trying to think this through logically, She knew the questions she should ask, but she didn't think she could keep it together much longer. "Is he..." Sharon's face twisted "I don't want to ask this...but...is he using anything else?"

"No. Not that I know of. I don't think so. No"

Sharon tried to distance herself from Izzy's statement. If she'd been interviewing a witness and they'd answered her question that way she would have been suspicious. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something here. Izzy was hiding something, but she decided to let it go for now. "Ok. Let's try calling him again. I know you've been trying but I need to hear it for myself. Okay?"

Izzy nodded in understanding. Sharon picked up the house phone and hit the speed dial key for the son who'd been so distant from her for so long now. Hope welled in her chest. "Izzy, it's ringing." She put the phone on speaker. It rang and rang and rang before it clicked over to voicemail.

"This is Luke. Leave a message."

_Well, his phone is on._ Sharon thought. That seemed an improvement on Izzy's attempts. Sharon tried to keep her voice even, she wanted to stay calm. She wanted to sound reasonable. "Luke, hi..." her voice cracked and she tried to clear her throat, she wasn't going to cry over the phone at him. It would only push him further away from her. "I, umm..listen, Izzy is here with me, I know about what happened at the barbeque and I just need to know..." She cleared her throat again and blinked back tears. "I'm not...we're not...angry. I just...want, to make sure you're ok...We need to hear your voice ok, baby?" Sharon half believed he was going to pick up then. That she'd hear his voice and everything else they could work out. I'll...we'll be home all evening, please, Luke, please call us back." She looked at her daughter, seeing her own distress reflected back at her. She squeezed her hand and ended the call.

"So now we wait."

Sharon made a quick dinner of fresh pasta than neither of them touched. They sat in near silence at the table, taking turns staring at the phone as if they could will it into life.

"It will be ok, you know." Sharon tried to reassure her daughter in calm tones she did not feel. "This sort of thing, you'd be surprised, it happens all the time, and then people turn up wondering what all the fuss was about."

Izzy was silent. She alternated between staring blankly at her mother and fidgeting with her hands.

"If we don't hear from him by morning, we can make a report then." Sharon sipped her water. Izzy had started jiggling her knee under the table. "Izzy, Please!" Sharon slammed her palm on the table. Izzy jumped up from the table as if Sharon had slapped her.

"I can't take this. I'm calling again." She picked up the phone.

"Izzy.." Sharon sighed.

"I don't care what you're going to say. I'm calling again." Izzy punched in the number. It was ringing. She put the phone on speaker as it clicked to voicemail once again.

"This is Luke. Izzy, Mom, if it's you then I'm fine. Don't worry..." Sharon got up and moved to stand by the phone. She couldn't believe her ears. _No. No, no, no. Don't say it._

"...I just have some things to take care of. I'll be seeing you both soon."

_Shit. God damn it, Luke!_

There was absolutely nothing she could do now. Technically, after that call he was no longer missing. He sounded sane. He'd clearly expressed a logical, if vague reason for his absence. He was a grown man and perfectly entitled to take off on his own, if that's what he wanted. Missing persons would be sympathetic, but they would also tell her that there was absolutely nothing that could be done at this point, unless Eddie wanted to press charges. Sharon shuddered at the thought.

She heard the beep, the thin mechanical voice asking her to leave a message but in the face of that void of recorded static, she found she didn't have a thing to say.

"We can't report him missing now can we?"

In that moment, Sharon was supremely grateful that Izzy understood and that she wasn't going to have to argue the point with her.

" To any meaningful effect? No." Sharon replied matter of factly. "Are you going to stay? Or do you have to get back tonight?"

Izzy shook her head. "No. I..I'd like to stay. I took a double shift starting tomorrow evening, so I could drive down. Spend some time sorting this mess out."

"Ok. Good. That's good." Sharon smiled in understanding and brushed a hand across Izzy's elbow as she walked away. Izzy grabbed her mother's arm to stop her. "What? That's it? Is there nothing else we can do?"

"Not tonight." Sharon replied and started to move away. Izzy grabbed at her arm again.

"Where are you going?" Izzy sounded exhausted. Sharon sighed, gesturing towards the front door.

"I need to go for my run."

The truth was, she had to get out the house for a few hours. She couldn't sit here falling apart. Nor could she sit and watch Izzy do the same.

"No you don't. Not tonight. I need you. I need you ...here." Izzy's voice broke, tears spilling from under her dark lashes. Sharon almost gave in.

"I need to do this. For me, I need to get my head straight. Just for an hour. I'll be back."

Sharon walked to the door and pulled on her trainers. She grabbed her iPod and keys from the sideboard. She thought about staying. She even walked back into the living room. She found Izzy already curled up on the sofa staring into space. _Well, that didn't take long._

She looked down at her daughter, her fingers focussed on untangling her earphones. "Iz, look... I...I am doing something ok? I just...this is my way of...I just need some time to figure out how."

Izzy broke her blank stare and tried to smile. "Ok."

"Ok." Sharon repeated and left the house.

**A/N: Just so you know, I'm not writing a Sharon centric story (Not that I have anything against Sharon centric fic). What happened is, what was supposed to be a single chapter with shifting POV of the same afternoon became very, very long. I could have edited. I know. But I have Brenda's and Sharon's stories so clearly in my mind, that I feel that I have to do them both justice. So this chapter is all Sharon and Brenda gets a chapter of her own. So, in the next part 'Passing II' we'll see the kind of day Brenda's been having, and the two experiences of the same afternoon will meet.**


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